But Juna had no interest in facing him. 

When Weecho came off the bay into the channel he could see her shadow sitting on the dock under the bungalow on stilts. Saw her stand when he turned the Jet Ski from the channel to come in that last short distance. By the time he docked, she was gone. 

He started to call out for her. 

“Don’t yell.” The voice was Nina Galleon’s, her ghost hovering above the dock where it had been before. “Sounds carry out here.” 

“Where’d she go?” 

“Go find out. But be quiet.” 

He started up the ramp, jerked his thumb at the Jet Ski. “I think it needs gas.” 

“Just go.” 

The sliding door off the deck was open, but he didn’t see Juna. Went through the living room, checked the bathroom and bedroom, even under the bed. The place was empty. 

He shut the front door, started across the plank walkway to shore, heading for the A train station. Maybe could catch up with her on the way. 

He didn’t. Didn’t see her on the platform either.   

He stood by himself and practiced some bullshit lines out loud while he waited for the train, trying out what he’d say when he saw her. Was glad she didn’t hear what he came up with when he heard how lame it sounded. 

He still had the package of opium under his jacket, still had the blinking blue light. Went to toss the light into a trash bin, realized he didn’t want it calling attention to itself, not here in Lynch country, and waited until he got home 

She wasn’t at the loft either. He tried her cell, she didn’t pick up. 

He fed Wanda, waited up late, listening for the elevator while he stared out at the bridge. When he finally turned in, it was just him and Wanda on the single mattress.  

                                                #          #          # 

“We need you up here right away.” 

It was Alexey on Weecho’s cell the next morning, telling him to come to the town house. 

“Why, what’s up?” 

“Just get here,” he said, and clicked off. 

When Weecho got there, Jeremy the houseman again led him up the winding stairs to the library. Alexey was sitting at the computer table with Commissioner Burke and Dara like last time. But this time nobody asked him to help himself to breakfast. Burke tossed an 8x11 photograph onto the table. 

“Take a look.” 

Weecho picked it up… did a big blink. It was a shot of him on the Jet Ski, with the packing drum full of opium floating at his side, one of the packages from it in his hand. 

“One of our narcotics people was on that patrol boat,” Burke said. “He took the picture. That’s the only reason I have it instead of DEA. If they get a copy and run it through image enhancement, you’re toast.” 

Weecho wasn’t all that recognizable because of the angle and the fog. But it was enough for Burke to know who it was. And image enhancement software had gotten better than Weecho might have liked.  

Alexey tapped the picture. “That drum of junk was probably straight from their lab, pure and uncut.”  

“That’s what I figured,” Weecho said. 

“So how the hell did you end up with it?” Burke said. “That’s major merchandise.” 

“That wasn’t all of it, not even close. I was tailing Lynch and bumped into it.” 

Like, how else to put it?    

He’d brought the package of opium from the drum with him, had it in his camera backpack. Pulled it out and tossed it next to the picture. 

“In case you thought I wasn’t going to share.” 

Nobody thought that was funny. Dara went back to texting on her secure cell, Weecho supposing she was keeping the people back in Tel Aviv in the loop on this.      

“You’re saying there was more?” Burke said. 

Weecho said, “Six or seven drums. At least.” 

Dara looked up, the three of them darting eyes at one another. There was major and there was major.   

“Lynch was picking them up in his Donzi,” Weecho said, “when I lost him in the fog.” 

After a pause, Burke said, “As far as we’re concerned, you blew it again.” 

Weecho frowned. This blowing it song was getting old. 

“How?” 

“If word gets around that that patrol boat picked up that drum, and that there might’ve been more, every DEA putz looking to make a name is going to be sniffing around out there. And Lynch and Yoon are going to pull back and move their operation out of our jurisdiction.” 

 Weecho pointed to the bag of opium. “I put my ass on the line to get that. And I can do it again, inside or outside your jurisdiction. Just let me know.” 

“Don’t get cocky,” Alexey said. “You can’t do it from prison. While they’re looking for Lynch or whoever, they can just as well be looking for you.” 

Weecho sensing it was time for a changeup. “Who’s Bigsby?” 

“Who?” 

Weecho could see that Alexey and Burke both knew. 

“Your friend Senator Gatchel brought him to a meeting with Lynch and Yoon.” 

Alexey started to say something, but Burke raised a finger for him to keep quiet. 

Then Burke looked at Weecho. “By the way, how’s your mother?” 

My mother? Then it hit him. It was Burke who stepped in for her at the hospital. 

When Burke saw that Weecho got it, he nodded. “It can work both ways for her.” 

Nothing like a threat from the Commish to cozy up your day. 

Dara spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to get that laptop from Lynch, before it ends up out of reach.” 

“Like in a DEA evidence locker,” Burke said, still looking at Weecho. 

“Juna can get to it,” Weecho said. “I’ll work with her. We can copy the hard drive or take the whole thing.” 

But of course Juna couldn’t go back to Lynch’s. Not with Yoon’s people having found that bug, the one Weecho planted in the books on the yacht. Odds being that Lynch connected the bug with that kid he saw in the tux, that pissant spic kid who he’d likely connect with Juna after having seen Weecho three times now, even if it was from the rear.   

“I take it back,” Weecho said. “She can’t go near there.” 

“We’ve already decided to pull Juna out,” Alexey said. 

Weecho imagining how that would play with her. 

Alexey gesturing. “Look behind you.” 

Weecho turned. Sitting in shadow over in a corner, still in her hoodie, was Juna.  

Alexey stood up. “We’ve been trying to explain how it’s too iffy now to leave her in there.” 

Juna got up and came over, shaking her head. 

“I’m telling you it isn’t,” she said. “And I’ll say it for Weecho – we don’t know that Lynch has tied me to him, or even knows who Weecho is. If Lynch starts to act skitzy, I’ll pull myself out.” 

“I’m sure Weecho is aware,” Alexey said, “that by then you might not be able to.”  

Weecho could tell by Alexey’s tone that this was ground they’d been going over, and that he wanted to move on.  

But Juna kept pressing. “What other way is there? Give me a day and I can get into his safe. That’s where he keeps it.” 

Alexey said they’d give it more thought, but it was clear to Weecho that Juna wasn’t going back in, at least not with their OK. The meeting finished up with Juna and Weecho recapping what they were able to overhear at the bungalow between Lynch and Yoon and the other two men. Burke and Alexey did their best not to react to anything about Bigsby.  

A few minutes later Weecho was walking with Juna down the winding staircase. 

“If you try to tell me it was for my own good,” she said, “I’ll break your head, I swear.” 

At least Weecho had known not to try that one. 

“Leaving me on the dock with my ass in the breeze.” 

“If I hadn’t,” Weecho said, “your ass would be in the shitter with mine.” 

“At least you’re in the shitter. If they don’t use me, I’m out on the street.” 

That might have been overstating it, but Weecho could see she had a point. How else was she going to prove she could cut it? She’d talked more than once about how much she’d like to turn this gig into something permanent for herself.      

“They’re not worried about keeping me safe,” Juna said. “They’re worried about if anything happens to me, how bad it will look for them. They already lost Nina.” 

As they came off the stairs into the marble vestibule, Juna said, “I step in with Burke for your mother, and you leave me flat like that.” 

So that’s where it came from.   

“You had to be the hero,” she said, “and chase after that dope. Well, you caught it, now deal with it.” 

Weecho was trying to think how not to lose any more ground here when a voice called from upstairs. 

“Weecho?” 

It was Dara, leaning over the railing. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I need to ask you something when you’re finished.” 

She smiled her easy smile and stepped away. Weecho turned back to Juna, standing there in her hoodie, looking beat after being who-knows-where all night. 

“She’s beautiful,” Juna said.  

“Juna…” 

“I’m serious. Go see what she wants.” 

She turned and headed for the door that Jeremy the houseman was holding open. 

Weecho called after her, “We’ll talk later.”  

Juna stepped out and Jeremy closed the door.